Original | Serengeti
The quayside´s heaving this morning. I´m watching the cargo being loaded onto the Man O´War, Regalis, from a comfortable perch on the dock walls and wondering how they´re going to fit it all in, especially with the large contingent of people waiting impatiently to board the smaller corsairs dwarfed by the warship.
Many of them, like me, are females who find they´re always going to be low in the order of things, unable to get even one lone male, or just long for their own patch of territory to call their own.
However the Bajari of the tribe have decreed that only those who are skilled in some way may travel on this first voyages to the so-called New World as it will take those skills to build our presence in distant lands. Now I´m glad mother decided that if I was going to run off to explore I should learn how to fashion my own weapons even if it seemed tedious and boring carefully piecing together the bows in her workshop and I regret never learning how to work the trees into the initial staves.
There´s more movement of a different kind now, and I can see the Shaman slowly making her way towards the shoreline amongst the parting crowds. That means it´s almost time to leave as she´ll bless the boats and those who are going just before we cast off. I´m being yelled at to get on board. I´ll write further once we´re at sea. At sea. I can´t wait!
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Bubastis curse the idiot who thought up this stupid idea! My fur´s flattened so tightly by the rain I´m surprised the cold wind can even get near my skin. I should be alright for now, curled into a small spot in the hold, but it´s still freezing down here and the candle doesn´t give out any warmth in its ship-safe casing. We´ve been sailing for days now and I haven´t had time to write, but the days have blurred slowly into one another.
The first day was fine weather and high spirits as we chatted about what we hoped and expected from the New World. We even had an impromptu archery competition between those of us with bows. Needless to say I didn´t win anything, but the quality of my workmanship was exclaimed on by a few which was nice. The competition had to be abandoned after a misfire put a hole in a sail much to our captain´s anger and the rest of the day was spent below decks hiding from her!
The next few days were much of the same, with the sun shining, and even the Captain´s black mood had faded the day after the contest. Ceremonies to Bubastis were held by the few priestess that were making the voyage to spread Her word and seek those who have been wronged in the New World as well as set up the Church for those who will come after us. I spent a lot of those fine days curled up in the sun´s glow, enjoying the warmth and napping or playing games of chance with others. We even scrounged some fishing rods from the hold and spent a fun afternoon catching all manner of fish and creatures from the deck.
It was then that the weather turned ugly on us as dark clouds began to throng the horizon. Even our prayers to Bubastis went unanswered as the rain began to sleet down on us. Games were hastily picked up or abandoned and we all dove below decks as the crew began to fight the heavy winds.
I´ve been busy keeping out the way, you´d be surprised at how much time that takes up, and trying to catch a few hours sleep when I´m not being asked to help with one thing or another. I was feeling rather useless after the initial rush to get everyone under cover and leave the decks to the crew, and now I´m feeling trapped in this big wooden skeleton which is all the protects me from death in the depths of the ocean. There´s nowhere I can exercise and when you´re used to dashing through the trees in the sunlight of Tritoni the dark and damp atmosphere in the bowels of a ship is depressing to say the least with not even the promise of light that the deepest hidden caves afford.
We´ve heard rumours that it´ll get worse before we reach the New World although I´m not precisely sure how. It´s whispered among the crew that the passage through the so-called ‘Maelstrom´ is only small and there´s a chance that we´ll miss it entirely. I hope we don´t. Bubastis save us all.
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The rain´s slackened now, but I´m sceptical that this is the salvation we´ve been praying for. I sense that this is a lull in the storm and the light grey clouds covering the sky are hiding some deeper and more violent weather still. We´re allowed back onto the deck now, but only Regalis is still in sight of our Corsair, there´s been a murmur that the other was lost in the storm. Maybe this weather is Bubastis giving us time to mourn.
We´re becoming closer to each other trapped here on this ship. Several females who disliked each other have become firm friends now, finding that their enmity was based on similarity. There´s been discussions in the calmer moments of electing a new Bajari for our little tribe and we´ve unofficially come to call ourselves after the name of our ship, the Star Chaser, as we are all chasing our dreams across this vast journey.
Myself, I´ve found kinship with some of the other explorers that have joined this expedition and we are comforting ourselves in the knowledge that we are pioneers in the new land, discovering things that have never been seen by Wemic, or any other race, eyes before. I will record everything in you, diary, so that in the future our people can discover everything anew as we will.
I´ve also been discussion woodcraft and bow craft, and I had a fascinating debate with one Iluna who insists that her method of ‘laminating´ the wood is far more effective than the way my mother taught me of just using plain staves and careful working. Sadly there is not the equipment, or the environment, to try her theory out but we have promised each other we will discuss this further when we are once again on dry lands and have more than just enough room of string our bows.
A few of the males have been practising their close-quarters fighting and tonight there´s going to be some entertainment of that fashion going on as several of the women here are interested in taking them for their own. I´m not particularly interested myself, it´s very hard to explore new lands and scout if you have to ensure the safety of your pride and constantly return to make sure some other female hasn´t run off with them. But I think I will go and watch, a well-trained fighter is always a pleasure to behold.
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It seems even our traditional society is crumbling somewhat under this continus voyage. The males no longer sit as outsiders to our talks, contributing almost equally to the discussion with some interesting view points. While this has outraged a few of the females, most noticeably the priestesses, most of us pride ourselves on looking at new angles and viewpoints or we wouldn´t be on this eternal voyage. Yesterday we drew up alongside Regalis to exchange some supplies and discover that as feared many of our fellow tribefolk on the other Corsair has been lost to the seas. The few that had been rescued now refused to come on deck in sight of the sea and a couple of Bubastis´s priestesses moved to the larger ship to comfort and council them. There was an air of sadness onboard for the rest of the day.
We are, however, making excellent time although we´re moving slower due to the Man O´War´s speed. It seems a lifetime away that we set sail and it is hard to believe that it was only a little more than two weeks ago. The Captain made an announcement earlier that we are only a few days off the horrific weather and blockade known as the Maelstrom and we would all need to work together to ensure that everything was secure and the crew were able to do their jobs easily and quickly.
A few of us, impatient for some way to burn off energy and prevent our muscles wasting away, have volunteered to help work the boat. I´m being taught the very basics of hauling the yard around with the rest of the crew in perfect harmony so we can travel against the wind. I hadn´t realised just how dangerous the work was until I saw one young crewmember fall to his death into the sea as a fellow crewmember stepped out onto the ‘footropes´ below the sail spars and disrupted his precarious balance. I can only assume the wind muffled the warning cry.
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The ship is a harsh place, and the sea even more. Our food is getting scarce now, with some of it having turned rotten or worm-infested in the hold. The Captain has ordered fishing lines to be put out behind the ship but she doesn´t seem confident of a catch. I´m currently gnawing on a piece of hard bread and longing for the richness of deer meat, even an old stringy doe would be a gift from Bubastis herself at this moment. The ship´s cook is trying his hardest, but there´s already been mutterings of unrest, particularly amongst the better paid crafters who are have endured the trip so far with long suffering and loud sighs.
Our nights are spent in prayer and hope, listening as the wind rattle around the hull and the waves crash into it. The initial hopes we had are dimmed now to just longing for dry land and warmth, and most of the packed furs and blankets in the hold have been dragged out for bedding. Sickness too is rife with fevers and headcolds common. So far I have avoided them but there have been at least two deaths so far and the wailing from the Regalis when one of their crew is buried at sea carries across the waves far too often for my liking. I am glad I have been helping the crew with the sails as it is keeping me relatively fit, but I am losing weight rapidly without better food and fitness without food cannot stave off illness for long.
I´ve just felt the wind and rain hit with more force than ever before, and had it confirmed by a shivering Iluna who´s crept down to huddle next to me. She speaks of a wall appearing on the horizon growing steadily larger and touching the sky. She says it is glowing, a virulent purple mist that stretches as far as she could see with flashes of lightning inside it. I´m worried she may be sick as such a phenomenon cannot truly exist except in tales, can it?
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The purple ‘wall´ that Iluna spoke of last night is truly real. And we are to go through it. I stood at the front, the prow, of the ship in the driving gale for a few moments earlier watching it as it came ever nearer. It does not cover the entire horizon, there is a tiny gap in the haze that we seem to be aiming for although the crew seem reluctant to continue we have no other choice. I constantly wear my daggers and my bow now, although there is nothing I can shoot at, it´s comforting to feel them there.
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The storms are driving up tempers and down moods. One of the best hunters of the tribe threw himself overboard because he despaired that he´d never see the land again. There´s only a small crew allowed on the main deck now and with the surgeons insisting the sick are quarantined as best as possible, I am elbow to elbow with others who are equally frustrated in the hold. The wall now envelops the sky, merging with the eternally dark clouds and crew have sworn to see shapes and figures in the swirling violet. At least one is curled up in a mad wreck after believing he saw his dead sister and mother in the, there´s no other word for it, Maelstrom.
I find myself clinging to my daggers at odd moments, the weight in my hand before I even know it and Iluna carefully guides the sharp edge back to the belt sheathes. Her eyes are calm, as if she has seen death and accepted it. I hate seeing the person who has become my best friend on this voyage like this, she barely talks other than to join in the almost constant whispered prayers.
The boat tilts constantly, I am finding it a miracle that I can even write here with the rise and fall of the violent waves and the sway as the tempest buffets the boat, but I feel I must make some record of this trip so that if by some grace I, or this small book, survive then others may know of what awaits them. Some grace. I find myself wondering if Bubastis is crueller than I believed to punish Her children with this, for while there is a good chance that someone amongst our numbers has done wrong, She is punishing all of us with this storm and many of Her people are dying. She is a god of justice. Where is her justice?
If you read this in the future, do not think badly of me for these thoughts. But when there is no hope, there can be no belief.
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We have begun entering the purple mist, the Maelstrom, Hell, even Heaven depending on who you talk to. Yes, Heaven. Iluna really believes that this maelevolent tunnel is Her Hunting Grounds, and spends much of the day standing in little more than a shift in the pouring gales staring at the flashes of light and the ethereal mists. We, the surgeons, myself and others, have tried to call, drag and coerce her inside but she refuses to come and has injured more than one of us in the process. I have stood at the enterance to the hold as long as possible watching her sing to the storm as it soaks her to the skin, the lightning illuminating her as a silhouette against the madness.
I am mourning her already.
Others are also suffering from whatever haunts this accursed ocean. I have shied away as eyeballs have been removed by their owners, as screams reverberate through the blackness of the unending light. The Captain has locked herself in her cabin, the windows boarded up and the crew are ordered to only act when they must. Luckily, if it can be called luck, the wind is straight and true through this passage and there is rarely anyone on the decks.
There is no day or night any more, the mist envelopes us and I dream when I can of the sunlit days in the branches of the jungle, where I and my friends would stalk each other for hours before tumbling over and over into the crystal clear streams. I dream of my mother, carefully showing me how to read the signs of the jungle and my father, so proud to be allowed to take me hunting with him to learn what the male´s role in the pride was. I remember my first kill, and the freshness of the meat my mother cooked that night. I remember my brother and sister lying in one big heap with me on a winter´s night, staring up at the stars and making shapes of them.
When I woke this morning, night, day, I thought I saw my sister in front of me, threading a bead onto a delicate piece of jewellery that she was crafting, and it was so real that for a moment I believed I could touch her. I´m sitting here with wool and wax in my ears as I would swear I heard her calling to me to come to her, her who has been dead for five years, crushed by accident in the market place, whose spirit has been with Her ever since.
This place is madness, and I fear that I will be drawn into it if we do not clear this veil soon. If we ever clear this cursed veil.
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Iluna is dead. She was swept into the heaving tempest this morning. The crewman who saw it swears that demons of purple mist carried her off. I can´t find it in me to disbelieve him.
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We are clear. I never thought I would be so happy to see silver lightning streak down out of a grey sky, but I stood laughing in the rain-swept doorway as the purple haze slipped away on the horizon behind us. For a few moments there was joy, and then immense sadness swept across the ship as we saw the damage the journey had inflicted. We were alone in the water, the Regalis nowhere in sight, and from the throngs of people that had boarded the ship, only a handful of crew remained and only a few dozen passengers were alive and sane.
The Captain was found dead, and the sole remaining alchemist confirmed the bottle in her hand was poison. Her eyes were stark and empty and we could not close her eyelids. She now lies at the bottom of the sea, forever watching her beloved waves.
The eldest female, Sur´la, was rapidly elected in charge and we are continuing on to the New World. Not one of us wishes to return and not one of us believes that we could. I am very glad that I was shown how to manipulate the sails for all of us have been commandeered into helping to sail the Star Chaser to land.
I spent a long day today mending some of the shattered wood as best I could on the masts. If only I had learnt to work the wood as well... But enough wishing. My hands ache, but I must continue this diary, it holds the memory of so many people now.
According to the map and documents that we found in the Captain´s cabin we have another week, maybe two, until we reach land. I doubt we will reach our targeted destination now, but I doubt any of us will care as long as we find somewhere. The navigator is one of the many people who is no longer quite of this world and can only make the vaguest suggestions on our direction.
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We are slowly losing those who went mad during the Passage as it has become known. Either through illness, suicide or just wasting away. It is sad but all of us are no longer shocked when we wake to find another body. Today our last priestess passed into the hands of Bubastis. It seems we really are abandoned. Or that Her power is such that it cannot reach through the veil that surrounds these waters and lands. What use is a god who cannot hear your prayers?
Our food supplies are down to all but nothing and what little we can scrounge is prioritised for the sick. Several objections to this have been raised, the loudest that they will probably die anyway, but Sur´la pointed out that we are not a barbaric people no matter what land or circumstances and the majority of us went hungry. While I can see her logic, my stomach cannot.
It is now assumed that the Regalis and all those aboard were lost.
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According to the day, we should see land today or tomorrow. The anticipation is palatable but at the same time we are all so tired that we can no longer think past the next moment. It is hard to even think of the words I want to write and the pen is heavy in my hand.
There have been quiet discussions amongst us about what we expect of the New World as people try vainly to remember why they begun this journey. The more sceptical among us wonder how we are going to support ourselves as nearly all the supplies were onboard the lost Man O´War. Some people have been keeping busy sketching plans and ideas for shelter and all of us with weapons knowledge are attempting to practise in case we come across danger in the unknown land.
Danger. That´s amusing after all that we have been through. What can anyone, deity or man, throw at us now?
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I spoke too soon. A storm is currently battering the broken skeleton of our ship again and I have retreated to the Captain´s cabin for a few moments to scribble this before I must help to keep our breaking ship apart. I am placing this diary in my pouch, sealed as best I can from the elements, in the hope that someone will read it and remember those of the Regalis, Star Chaser and the long lost Rising Sun who came to this new land to explore and discover the wonders therein.
May your deity hold you safe.
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I live. I don´t know how, or why, but I live. I have been too in awe of this strange land to write, but I feel I must now put down in words what I have seen, what I have experienced! I woke upon a beach, which I saw later was white sanded and pristine, my skin, which should have been rubbed raw from the salt and sand soothed by what felt like leaves and cool water. Instinct made me check my weaponry to discover my bow, arrowless, and my daggers were still secure. The sun hurt my eyes as I opened them slowly, but the harsh rays were blocked by a figure sitting next to me. A figure bedecked with leaves.
As my eyes adjusted to the world again I almost fell in my haste to crawl away. The figure was a tree. A tree that talked to me, although at first my ears did not register the sounds, and which held me in place with a gentle arm. You can imagine my shock and horror at this, this abomination, and I wondered why any god would leave me alive only to be killed again.
Eventually his, for he told me later to refer to him as a male, words pierced my panic and to my amazement I understood him. I crouched at bay, my daggers mysteriously in my hands, as he named himself Thorn and told me I had nothing to fear from him. He spoke of his amazement at seeing myself, a form he´d never seen before, and apologized for the fact he could not help my wounds futher.
Slowly, so slowly that the sun was setting before it happened, I allowed him to lead me into the forest at the edge of the beach where he offered me food and cool, clean water. We talked, and eventually my bitterness at the goddess who had abandoned me came forth.
He explained then about his own god, the Jaguar, who is of desire and fulfilment, of happiness and freedom. He offered me a gift from his god, but I declined when he said that they would touch my mind, I did not feel secure enough in this strange world, let alone in this creature´s presence, to accept food that would lessen my senses. Ironic when I had accepted food so readily through hunger, but I recognise I was not functioning entirely logically then.
The Jaguar sounds like the Huntress in some ways to me. Maybe it is just my tired and lonely mind, but Thorn´s god sounds like the Huntress should be. Wild, free and yet just. I think I will talk more about this with Thorn.
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Thorn left today. And I am now a child of the Jaguar. She, for Thorn explained that no god or goddess is truly limited to one sex and I feel more comforted by a feminine deity, will guide me to my desires and aid me in helping others achieve theirs. Which is a good thing, for my desire at this moment is to find food, shelter, and maybe others who have succeeded in making the passage through the maelstrom.
Thorn left as he felt I must walk my own path, and so I will. And you, who are reading of my travels must also find your own path through the wonders of this world of dryads, Thorn´s kind, and other strange being. I will leave you here, under this tree where others may one day find you and read of my journey while they make their own.
May you find what you truly desire.
Serengeti.
© Clare Selley 2009
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